Fault Lines
by RascalKat
Summary: He keeps telling himself that he's nobody's pet, but as the weeks tick by with no sign of rescue, he can feel his resolve slipping. And why should he fight it? It's his fault he's here in the first place. The war for Donatello's humanity has begun… and he might just lose.


_Katt, what are you doing?! Why are you starting another story!? Because it's New Year's and I feel like celebrating, so I'm posting the thing I've been working on for the past two months. It's just the prologue right now, and I can't guarantee when the first chapter will be up, but I hope you enjoy this teaser! [Yes, I realize it has almost nothing to do with the description, but we'll get there! ;) ]_

 _Special thanks to Poetique and FaithfulWhispers for all of their help with this!_

 **Fault Lines: Prologue**

* * *

It was an accident. Just a dumb accident.

Raindrops splattered against Donatello's face, his feet pounding the slick rooftops as he struggled to catch up to his brothers.

They finally had a lead.

In the past week, their friends had reported five mutants had gone missing. When he and his brothers went to investigate, there was no trace of them, no signs of struggle, no blood, no clues. Five people, just gone.

But tonight was different. Tonight, they'd finally witnessed a mutant being kidnapped in a dark alley while they were on patrol.

He was just a kid. They had shoved some poor kid into the back of a car with no plates. Sure, this kid happened to have white fur and rabbit ears. At least, that's what it looked like before a hand forced him into the shadows of the trunk.

But he was still a kid. Still a human being who didn't deserve this. And Donnie would be damned if he let that car get away without a GPS tracker at the very least.

It wasn't exactly easy to pull the modified tranquilizer gun out of his duffel as he ran, but he did it anyway. Even harder was loading the tracking device without dropping it as he leapt over alleyways, but he did that too.

What he couldn't seem to do was catch up. All of his fumbling had left him even further behind, and he could only pray that their target had been caught at a red light, or maybe waylaid by a little traffic. His brothers were still running up ahead, though, so that must have meant the car hadn't slowed down either. Even if they did end up catching it, none of his brothers had the equipment to do their part effectively.

 _Come on, gotta catch up… Can't let them get away!_

Thunder rumbled above him, and he realized Mikey had stopped while the others kept running. It didn't take his own genius level intellect to figure out Leo's plan. Mikey was faster, he could take the gun and catch up to them, especially if Donnie was stuck lugging his duffel around.

He put on another burst of speed, intent on handing the gun off like a baton in a relay race.

Still a block away from Mikey, he planted a foot at the rain slicked edge of the roof and prepared to launch himself over the gap. Or at least, he would have, if his foot hadn't gone sliding out from under him. His stomach flipped as his momentum carried him forward, the air in his lungs locked in place. In that split second, Donnie knew he was going down.

He vaguely remembered hearing Mikey shout for him, but he was too busy trying to grab onto something, anything, to control his fall. His hands grasped at nothing.

There were a few short seconds before his shell connected hard with an object about five feet above the pavement, spinning him from his back to his front. The sickening _crack_ that reverberated throughout his body seemed loud enough to rival the storm above, and for a moment, he almost thought he'd been struck by lightning.

He didn't remember hitting the ground.

* * *

Donatello woke up with a face full of asphalt about ten seconds later. He felt like he'd just been bashed in the head with one of Casey's hockey sticks.

And his _back_ … Something had to be broken, there was no way anything else could be this painful. It was so intense he almost didn't notice the stunned, almost prickly feeling in his legs.

He tried to pull one arm closer to him, curl into a ball or something. He hissed as a sharp spasm ripped through his carapace and ribs, making it almost impossible to breathe.

 _Okay… Okay, no moving then… Just stay still. Mikey's coming… Mikey's coming… Right?_

The asphalt overpowered the refreshing smell of rain, the thick scent of diesel and tar nearly making him sick. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to will the feeling away, but when he opened them again, he saw something glinting in the faint light of the alley. His stomach sank when he realized what it was.

 _The tranq gun… I dropped the tranq gun… We're never going to be able to track that car now._

He closed his eyes again, breathing as shallowly as he could. His hands curled into fists, more out of frustration and shame than pain. That mutant… That _person…_ They were still in harm's way, and it was all his fault because he had _failed…_

"Donnie?!" Mikey dropped to the pavement from a fire escape on the opposite side of the alley. "Donnie, are you okay?"

He wanted to scoff, ask his brother what kind of stupid question that was, but when he tried to speak, the only sound he could muster was a painful wheeze.

"Dude, you're awake! Okay, um… Did you hit your he-..." Mikey froze when he got a better look at his brother. "Oh wow… Ouch. I… Uh… Okay, Don, don't move."

 _Wasn't planning on it_ , he retorted in his mind, letting out a groan.

Mikey got closer and knelt down, hands hovering over the cracks in his shell. He grimaced as he looked around and realized what his brother must have landed on.

 _Please don't touch me,_ Donnie mentally begged, trying to prepare himself for the agony if Mikey were to move him. _For once in your life, just don't touch anything…_

"Okay, this is bad. I… um… I'm calling the others."

Donnie huffed out a breath in response, and although Mikey hadn't touched him, a searing pain erupted in his chest anyway, stretching into his carapace.

He gritted his teeth, realizing that his legs had gone so numb that he wasn't sure whether he even had his knees bent or not.

"Leo? … No, the tracker gun is dead. Donnie slipped off the edge of a building. He landed on this concrete post-thing…"

 _Technically it's known as a bollard_ , Donnie thought, starting to see more black than anything. _I fell on a bollard…_ _And I can't feel my legs._ Everything was growing fuzzier. The only thing clear in his head was the earth shattering thought that he might have just doomed himself to life in a wheelchair. _No, no, no…. I'm a ninja… I need my legs…_

"Yeah, he's still awake, but his shell's cracked pretty bad. I don't think he can move… I… Hang on Leo… Donnie? Donnie, stay with me bro, come on…"

Mikey's voice was drowned out by radio static. _I can't be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, I can't..._. Donnie could feel his brother's hand on the side of his face, working to keep him conscious. He just couldn't do it, though...

 _An accident. A stupid accident._

He let his eyes slide shut, welcoming the painless oblivion.


End file.
